She was singing. She was drunk, I think, the way she sang. Maybe she had drunk a big glass of vodka. But her singing was good. She sounded sad, but the music was good. We were all so surprised to see her there.
‘You have such soft hands,’ she said.
‘You like that?’
‘Yes.’ She moved her thumb over the back of my hand, but she continued to look in my eyes. ‘And your lips are, too…’
I leant forward, ready to kiss her.
And then the door to her apartment flew open.
Once there were two brothers. The older brother, Brian, was very clever, but also very proud. The younger brother, Frederick, was not so clever, but he was kind, and everyone liked him. The brothers lived in peace in the countryside, but one day, a villager ran into town. He was covered with blood.